Calvin knew Sam’s hurt at Eden ignoring his grandson’s plight ran deep as a river, but he’d thought at that moment that maybe Eden had a plan, that he’d known all that stuff had to happen and he couldn’t lift a hand to stop it in case his love got in the way. Because Eden had loved Sam. Calvin knew it. He’d seen the pain in the old man’s eyes when Sam came in like a beggar looking for food or shelter, but he never showed it to the boy. And that was real dangerous. If Sam didn’t believe in what Eden told him, out of some adolescent hurt, then Sam was going to be in deep trouble if the thing ever came back. No. When the thing came back.

‘You got to believe in Eden, Sam. You gonna be the keeper one day.’

‘Maybe.’

‘No maybe. For sure.’ A sulky silence, then Calvin looked straight into the boy’s eyes. ‘You know what the key does?’

‘Sure I do.’

‘Then you be a liar. No one knows what it does, they just be knowin’ how to make it call what needs to come.’

Sam’s eyes had flashed with boyish anger. ‘I know what comes. Eden told me.’

‘No, you don’t. You should listen closer. It be different every time. Eden told you what came to his Pappy. Might not be the same to you.’ Calvin had looked into the fire, and spoken more quietly. ‘And I be real sure it wouldn’t be nowhere near the same for your Pappy. Nowhere near.’

Sam had squinted at Calvin, as if something had occurred to him, and then quickly looked away into the flames.

They finished their meal and then Calvin smoked a little, enjoying the sweet, warm evening air on his face. Sam had lain down in front of the hot fire on his torn and dirty jacket, and taken his T-shirt and pants off. The warm night needed no fire except for cooking, but Sam had banked it up into an inferno and the boy basked in front of the tall flames like a cat. He lay on his side, staring into the fire, scratching his long muscular brown legs and plucking occasionally at the grass with a lazy hand. All he wore were a pair of mangy-looking grey shorts with a hole in the butt, but as Calvin’s eyes roamed over the beautiful brown body, he had thought he looked like a sleek and rare animal. Sam’s pubic hair just poked from the waist band of his shorts and the large, but gentle swelling beneath that filthy grey fabric told Calvin that at least one part of Sam Hunting Wolf had reached maturity.